


Be Mine

by tatterwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Destiel - Freeform, Flower Shop! AU, Fluff, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, Supernatural - Freeform, Tattoo Shop! AU, punk!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "I passed a flower shop next to a tattoo shop and at first I laughed because I thought it was ironic and then I freaked because IMAGINE YOUR OTP IN A FLORIST/TATTOO ARTIST AU. Then imagine whoever would obviously be which one and switch them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Destiel fic, so please leave feedback! (ps there is more coming! don't worry!)

The week of Valentine's Day was always the busiest of the year.

People, whole herds of them, meandered in and out of the flower shop endlessly from opening to closing time.

There were the business-suited corporates with their Bluetooth ear-pieces slapping plastic down on the counter. There were the middle-class men (and the occasional woman) in frazzled states as they tried to remember whether or not their spouse was allergic to lilies. There were the college students dressed in flannel pajama pants with laptop cases slung over their shoulders as they pushes glasses up their noses. They always seemed to be the funniest; completely baffled at the wide selection of flowers and possible arrangements. There were the teenagers, too, mostly round-faced, floppy-haired boys who came in looking for he standard red or pink roses. It was a revolving door that was constantly spitting out one of those four.

The air was perpetually filled with the natural sweetness of the plants and the soothing damp scents of potting soil. Dean smiled a little as he took a free moment to swipe the counter clean of leaf bits and slivers of plastic and tissue wrapping with a wet cloth. His mom had been adamant when she'd first opened up the shop; none of those artificial chemicals and pesticides would ever be used.

 _"Beautiful things are beautiful on their own_ ", she'd say as she cut roses and Dean watched from his perch on the marble counter-top.

The shop was all he had left of her, of his parents. And he'd be damned if he was going to change anything about the place. Besides, Dean had to agree with her. There was just something...Pure about the ways his mom had taken care of the plants.

Red bounced in the corner of Dean's vision. He flicked his gaze up to the smiling face that hovered beside him. Charlie had been one of his closest friends since childhood, well, besides Sammy, but he was Dean's brother so he really didn't count.

Her wide eyes glittered as she wiped her hands on her green apron.

"Going on break?" Dean asked, tossing the cloth into the used bin.

"A girl's gotta check her social media every once and a while, Dean."

She nudged his arm with her shoulder.

"You want me to take out the used bin while I'm headed that way?"

"That'd be great, thanks, kid."

That earned him a stuck-out tongue and a nose-wrinkle.

"You're the kid, kid."

Dean flipped a package of tissue paper at her hip.

"Go on, take your break before I change my mind and make you slave over the counter for the rest of your shift."

Charlie mock-shuddered and scooped up the used bin. She made off with a little two-finger salute before disappearing around the corner.

Dean ripped open the pack of tissue and began sorting it into the proper carriers.

He'd worked at the flower shop his whole life. Granted, he'd started out by just watering the plants in the back as a kid. Slowly, he'd graduated to sorting the flower pots and cataloging the inventory of the shop. He'd had an eye for arrangements. His mom had moved him up front just before the accident.

After the funeral, Dean had completed his last year in high school and taken over the shop. It never sat right with Sammy that Dean refused to hire more help so that Dean could attend college. Truth be told, Dean had everything he needed right where he was. He had the shop. He had Sam. He had his friends. He had their family's apartment over the shop.

There was enough money coming in that Dean had managed to scrape together enough for Sam to go to law school. 'Course, it hadn't hurt that the kid had also received a couple scholarships on account of his big brain.

Nah. Dean was pretty happy right where things were.

There was really only one thing missing. And it was ironic, considering the fact that Dean's workplace was probably considered one of the most romance-inducing places in town. Yeah. He'd had exactly zero luck in the love department. Girlfriends, boyfriends, that stuff just hadn't panned out after he took over the shop.

He hadn't really minded at first. Taking care of Sammy had been at the top of his list. Well, now that the kid was in college, Dean spent most nights cleaning up the shop and tending the plants. Occasionally, Charlie and Benny would tow him along to a movie or bar. It was kinda...lonely.

Dean made a face at the thought and chucked the plastic wrapping from the tissue into the waste bin.

The bells over the door chimed musically. He glanced up, expecting anything but what walked through the painted glass door.

The woman was slender and pale. Her hair was pulled into a mass of riotous black curls over one piercing-filled ear. More metal winked in her brow and nose. Dark makeup framed eyes that were as blue as the sky. A jewel hung from a bar of silver in her navel; midriff partially exposed by the ragged crop-top she wore beneath a leather jacket studded with spikes on the shoulders.

More startling than her clothing and piercings was the black ink that marked nearly every bit of visible skin. There were birds in flight on her neck, intricate scroll-work across her collarbones, even her hands were graced with the ink. The woman paused halfway inside the store, turning slowly.

Dean waited until she'd given everything a once-over before clearing his throat.

"Hi, can I help you find something?"

Those blue eyes lit upon him and narrowed slightly. A smile lifted the corners of her lips as she strode over to the counter.

"I'd love some help!" Her voice was a little low, eyebrows winging up and piercing glinting.

Dean returned her smile.

"Did you have something in mind, miss? A special someone?"

Those eyes ran up and down again. Dean felt himself shift a little under the scrutiny. But for all her studying, he didn't feel like she was about to make a move. Odd. He shrugged it off.

"Oh, yes. A very special someone." The woman nodded.

"I'm not really sure what the standard issue is for that sort of thing, though. What would you recommend?"

"Well, there are always the traditional roses-"

Her nose crinkled a little.

"Hmm. Cliche."

That drew a laugh from him. She looked a little startled, but somehow pleased.

"You're not wrong. Um, what about white lilies?"

Dean moved out from behind the counter and crossed to where the pale flowers rested. The very bellies of the petals were a pretty light yellow.

"Or maybe some daisies..."

"No, no. I think those lilies are lovely."

Dean nodded.

"A great choice if I do say so myself."

The woman selected a dozen and joined him at the counter. Her black-polished nails caught the light when she slid a credit card over the marble surface.

"I'd like to have them delivered if that's possible."

Dean added the charge to her bill.

"In a vase? We have white, pink, green-"

"White works."

"And time of delivery?"

"Would tonight be possible?"

Her lips pursed slightly. Dean checked the delivery schedule.

"It would be, miss."

The receipt was spat out with a mechanical wheeze. She signed her name in a graceful scrawl of looping letters and handed him a business card with the address for delivery, the name, and message to be included with the flowers.

Then, with a smile and a wave, she was gone; bells chiming and black form disappearing into the oncoming rush of customers.


End file.
